Chasing Twilight
by Rapturous Demise
Summary: NS. Unless he could find some way to erase Sara from his memory he would live out the rest of his life in a sleepless stupor. He would shrink and shrivel until he was no longer Nick but just a shell of the man he once was.
1. Resolution

_So take me and break me,  
And make me strong like you,  
I'll be forever grateful to, this and you._

_It's only you, beautiful,  
or I don't want anyone.  
If I can choose, it's only you.  
But how could I miscalculate?  
Perfect eyes will have perfect aim.  
If I can choose, its only you._

**-**Brand New, The No Seatbelt Song

**Chapter One: Resolution**

Nick was sitting in the break room with a steaming cup of coffee, hunched over the latest forensics journal. Sara must have forgotten it when she had left to meet Brass in the interrogation room. His eyes scanned the glossy pages without really absorbing any of its contents. His fingertips tingled where they met the pages. To think that Sara had touched this magazine before him sent his heart racing around his chest. He was pathetic, he knew, but those were the only things that connected him to her. The worthless, trivial, pathetic things. And so he clung to them as he would cling to a lifeline.

He was vaguely aware of soft footsteps approaching, but he could not bear to tear his eyes away from those pathetic pages of that pathetic magazine. The footsteps drew nearer and nearer and then someone was sitting down at the table beside him. He sighed and looked up to find Catherine staring back at him. "Anything good in there?" she asked.

"Nah," he muttered shaking his head, "just the usual."

Catherine chuckled. "Well, don't let Sara hear you saying that. She worships the ground before that thing."

"Yeah, I know." he whispered, not quite able to conceal the longing from his voice.

"Nick," Catherine said. He looked up again and saw the worry swimming through the blue of his co-worker's eyes. "Are you alright? You've been kind of distracted lately."

"Yeah," he muttered, averting his eyes, "just tired." She didn't look convinced. "They're doing construction down the street," he improvised. "It's been keeping me up."

"Huh," she mused.

Nick didn't feel bad lying to her. It was only a half-lie really. Nick _was_ tired, and they _were_ remodeling next-door. The latter had nothing to do with his sleep deprivation, though. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep for almost three months now. Not since the day Sara was kidnapped. Not even after she had been rescued and released from the hospital. There seemed to be a combination of dread and adrenaline coiled in the pit of his stomach at all hours. He would lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the squirming sensation that had infected his intestines.

The worst part was that he knew what it was. He knew, and yet he didn't know. It was there somewhere, hidden deep within the catacombs of his mind. Whenever he tried to flush is out, though, it seemed to shrink deeper and deeper into the distance, shrouding itself in a dark oblivion of ignorance. Day and night it goaded him, engaging the nice ball of energy in the pit of his stomach in a game of cat and mouse. Driving him mad.

At first he had managed to excuse his recent bout of insomnia with worry over his friend, but then the dreams started and the depth of his illness transpired. He was plagued by insatiable dreams. In the beginning he had seen only her face looming out of the darkness. But her face slowly drew nearer, and soon she was there as a whole, a permanent fixture of his subconscious.

His dreams had progressed and progressed until his nighttime fantasies became unbearable and the reality of his condition could no longer be denied.

He was madly in love with Sara and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it…

"Maybe you should take the night off." Catherine's words brought him back from his reverie.

"No." he said, almost too quickly. The last thing he needed was another night alone with his imaginary Sara. "No, I'm fine Catherine, really."

"You've got to sleep, Nick," she said sternly. "You can't do this job if you're eyes are closing on you."

He could tell she wasn't going to let the subject drop, and he knew she was right. He did need to sleep. He needed to fix things. He just wished he knew _how_ to fix things. If only his trouble really was a noisy construction crew. Then at least the problem would pass. This, though, this was for good. Unless he could find some way to erase Sara from his memory he would live out the rest of his life in a sleepless stupor with a cloud of heartache looming above him. He would shrink and shrivel until he was no longer Nick but just a shell of the man he once was. And that was not something he wanted.

Why, though? That's what he couldn't wrap his mind around. Why now? Why, after so many years of working as indifferent colleagues, wake up one morning and realize you're in love with this woman who you've been working alongside for the better part of ten years? It made no sense. The only possible explanation was that he had loved her all along. He just hadn't realized it. And then the combination of her disappearance and the news of her relationship with Grissom had woken him up. And now it was like he was taking part in some testosterone-fueled high-speed chase, only he knew his chances of success were slim.

He sighed. "Yeah, Catherine, I know." She smiled triumphantly, so naturally he added in a defiant tone, "I'm still not taking the night off, though."

Catherine made a strange noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, but Nick ignored her. He grabbed his cup from the table, downed the dregs of his coffee, and rose. Catherine's eyes burrowed into the back of Nick's skull as she watched him leave, his broad shoulders squared in defiant resolve. He felt as though his hair would be singed by the heat of her gaze, but still he did not turn around.

He had left Sara's magazine behind, lying abandoned on the break room table. He had forsaken his only connection to the woman he loved. It had left him feeling strangely empty and bare, but that was all about to change. He knew now what he had to do. The only thing left was to do it.

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	2. Deadlocked

**Chapter Two: Deadlocked **

Finding yourself head over heels for the boss' girl is a difficult position to be in. Up until now Nick had dealt fairly well with the awkwardness of it all, but he was now virtually frozen. There was no going back now, and yet the path forward was so foggy that he could not make out his feet before him.

Every minute spent at the lab was one spent walking on eggshells. It took every ounce of willpower to not lay himself before Sara's feet, hers for the taking, and yet there were still times when he caught himself drifting from the confines of the layout room to the imaginings of his mind. There were times when he caught himself standing just a little too close, staring just a little too long. No one else seemed to notice though, and for that he was eternally grateful.

He knew it was time to act, but he still couldn't bring himself to move. There was no safe way to go about it, and Nick was not entirely sure if he really wanted to do anything about it at all anymore. It would be so much easier to just ignore his emotions. Why risk being shot down? Why put their friendship that he valued above all else on the line? That was the thing he feared above all else – losing Sara completely. He could handle things as they were – always wanting never having – but if she were to disappear from his life altogether he would tumble headfirst off of the ledge of sanity. Surely, it would be wiser to just continue as he was.

But Nick was far beyond the point of no return. He had made up his mind to go down fighting and that was what he intended to do. The only thing he was lacking was a game plan. This last phase had proven hardest, though, and he was stuck on the sidelines until he was able to complete it.

It was growing more and more difficult for Nick to come to work each night. Having to see Sara every day and not be able to hold her, touch her, was driving him mad. Worse was watching her interact with Grissom. The way they would stand together, the way they would look at each other made his insides churn. Often he had caught his supervisor's gaze drifting in the midst of a case-briefing and coming to rest on her tall figure. It was times like those when Nick felt he would be driven off the edge. He would clench his fists in his lap, close his eyes, and count slowly backwards from one hundred until the anger had passed. But the tension would never disappear altogether; it would merely be reduced to a more tolerable level.

On multiple occasions he had considered transferring to day shift. It was more than obvious that this wouldn't work though. Sara worked enough overtime for the both of them and he would end up running into her just as often, only then he would have to explain his sudden change of schedule. Not to mention the fact that the only thing he couldn't stand more than seeing Grissom with Sara was seeing Ecklie period.

So he was stuck, frozen in time. He was chasing a nonexistent twilight across the sky and it seemed that his life depended on catching up. But he was running out of time.

Every moment he spent brooding over his situation Sara fell further and further out of his reach. If he ever hoped to catch her he would have to act quickly. And yet every time he found himself alone with her, every opportunity he got to tell her how he felt, his tongue seemed to swell up. His palms would get sweaty, his heart would beat faster, and he would find himself utterly incapable of speech.

So the moment Grissom announced that he would be working a double homicide alone with Sara he knew he was screwed. But there was nothing he could do about it without raising suspicions so he rose and followed her from the conference room to the parking lot.

The drive to the crime scene was about twenty minutes long. It was the most awkward twenty minutes of Nick's life. He kept fidgeting in his seat while Sara drove, not wanting to look at her for fear that she might be able to tell what he was thinking, but not wanting to avoid eye contact for the same reason. He finally settled on staring out the window for the remainder of the ride.

They passed casino after casino after casino and Nick observed them each in turn without registering a single thing. About ten minutes along, though, Sara cleared her throat, apparently unsatisfied by the silence.

"Nick," she said quietly.

He shivered involuntarily at the sound of her voice. "Yeah, Sara," he said without turning his head.

There was a long pause and then she sighed audibly. "Nick, are you alright?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" he muttered in exasperation.

"Because we're worried about you." Her voice was barely audible above the roar of the engine.

Nick shifted in his seat so that he was facing her. "I'm fine, Sara." The lie rolled off his tongue so naturally that it scared him.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He managed a weak smile. It didn't reach his eyes, but Sara seemed convinced at least.

"Okay." She smiled back and Nick's heart skipped a beat.

She seemed much more relaxed as they pulled up to the curb behind a long row of squad cars, humming softly to herself. She unbuckled and leaned over Nick to grab her badge from the glove compartment, her breast rubbing against his thigh. He inhaled sharply at the sensation, his heart beating at ten times the normal rate, but then she had retrieved her badge and she was gone, leaving Nick alone in the Tahoe.

He let his eyes flutter closed as he collected himself, and then he unbuckled and climbed out after Sara.


	3. Too Weak To Be Your Cure

**Chapter Three: Too Weak To Be Your Cure **

By the time Nick had managed to extract his kit from the back of the Tahoe, Sara was already on the opposite side of the yellow crime scene tape talking to one of the attending detectives. He stood for a moment watching her, admiring the way the sun glinted off her hair, the way it highlighted the little scar above her left eyebrow. It still pained him to think about how she got that scar. He would give anything to be able to erase it from her perfect face, to erase the memory from her wounded eyes. But there was nothing he could do to make it go away; he knew that better than anyone.

Nick sighed and ducked under the tape after her.

"You ready?" she called when she saw him approaching.

Her smile made his heart skip. The words got lost in his throat, so he just nodded and followed her up the front walk and into the house.

The first body was in the hallway: Thomas Perry, age 43. Nick was struck by the utter gore of the scene. The victim was splayed out across the tile in a great puddle of blood. He had been stabbed multiple times in the chest. His face looked like it had been bashed in by some sort of heavy object, and he was missing an ear. Blood was splattered across the walls and ceiling and already coagulating in a large puddle around the victim's body.

A trail of bloody shoeprints lead them straight to the second body. This scene was even worse than the first. Nick heard Sara gasp behind him as they walked through the door.

The death of a child takes a toll on everyone. It's a tragedy that no words can convey, but the sight that awaited Nick and Sara was beyond tragic, it was catastrophic.

Little Susie Perry, daughter of Thomas Perry, lay face down on the carpet, arms extended before her. Her pink satin nightgown had been perforated what looked to be close to half a dozen times. The stab wounds extended from the base of her neck to her low back.

Her left foot was missing.

"Bastard," Sara breathed behind him.

Nick followed her gaze to the bloody handprints smeared across the walls and carpet like some sick finger-painting. The horror he saw reflected in her eyes pained him more than the crime itself. He extended an arm to comfort her, but she backed out of reach. "Sara," he said, slightly hurt.

"I've got this room, Nick," she cut him off.

"Sara, do you think that's such a good idea?"

"I've got this room, Nick," she repeated sternly. The determination in her eyes left no room for arguing.

"Yeah, fine." Nick grumbled. He backtracked slowly out of the room. Before reentering the hall, he glanced back over his shoulder and watched as Sara knelt down beside the little girl. She remained still for a few moments, bent over the tiny body, almost as though she was praying, and then she opened her kit and began processing the scene.

Nick returned to the hall and began photographing the body. After he had taken multiple shots from several different angles and had collected fibers, he gave David the all clear to remove the body. He then began lifting the bloody shoeprints and swabbing the various blood pools.

Ninety minutes later, he had finished processing his scene. He tiptoed back down the hall, careful not to disrupt any of his evidence.

Sara seemed to be finished, too. She was standing several feet away from him, staring distantly at the void left in the puddle of blood. He closed the distance between them and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying his hardest to keep from shaking against her skin.

"Sara?" he whispered softly.

"She wasn't even eight years old, Nick." Her voice quavered slightly.

"I know," Nick whispered. Sara shook her head dejectedly and lifted her gaze to meet Nick's.

"She wasn't even eight and he stabbed her six times." Her eyes drifted back down to the carpet. "He took her foot with him."

Nick sighed. "The ear, too."

Sara turned back to him. "What kind of a person would do that, Nick?" Her eyes searched his as she spoke. He could see the moisture collecting at the corners of her eyes; she was fighting back tears.

The fact that she was displaying such emotions, however mildly, made his stomach churn. The old Sara would have gotten pissed; she would have wanted to break something. She would _not _have cried, though. And the fact that she actually was on the verge of tears was just one more reminder of what had happened, of everything that had nearly been lost.

Nick cleared his throat and sighed. "I don't know," he said quietly. He wished above all else that he could give her a real answer, the answer she deserved, but he had no idea what that answer was. He had no idea what she needed from him. He knew what he wanted to give her, but he had no idea what she would willingly accept. So instead he placed a hand on her back and led her from the room.

After giving the house a final walk through, they gathered up their kits and loaded everything back into the Tahoe. It was Nick's turn to drive this time and Sara's turn to stare blankly out the window.

It was strange, he thought, how well most people thought Sara had been coping with her ordeal when, in fact, she was on the verge of a meltdown. There were so many little signs: the way she was so quiet at crime scenes, they way she hardly got angry anymore. The way she wouldn't look you in the eye when you talked to her, or the way she would fiddle with her hands when she spoke. Surely, others were noticing all these little changes, too.

But he knew they weren't. The only reason he noticed these things was because he was always watching her. She had put up a strong façade, and it seemed only Nick could see through it.

He longed to help her. He yearned to be able to support her, to listen to what she had to say. But he couldn't. He couldn't be the friend she deserved because he didn't trust himself. If he tried to help her all he would end up doing is screwing things up. His mind would run away with him and he would say something or do something that would ruin everything.

What Sara needed right now was the one thing he couldn't give her. She needed someone she could rely on, someone she could depend on to forget about all their wants and needs for a while and focus solely on helping her get better. But whenever he was around her, his mind went into overdrive. All he could think about was her closeness. He became incapable of comprehensible thought.

He was weak when it came to Sara.

And Sara needed someone strong. She needed someone that could help fix her. Nick couldn't be that someone, and it was tearing him up inside.


	4. The Reconstruction Of The Berlin Wall

**Chapter Four: The Reconstruction of the Berlin Wall**

The drive back to the lab was a quiet one. Neither Nick nor Sara said much, and the moment the Tahoe had stopped moving, she had jumped out and was striding determinedly through the doors of the Crime Lab. Nick sighed and followed her, not sure whether to be more wary or annoyed.

He left Sara to start processing the fibers while he walked the blood he had collected to DNA. He took his time, not exactly eager to be back in the same room with Sara, not knowing whether he would be able to stand seeing her like this again. Wendy was swamped, though, and she kicked him out of her lab almost as soon as he had handed her his samples.

He decided to procrastinate and stop at the break room for a cup of coffee. He was desperately in need of re-energizing, anyway, so it wasn't completely slacking.

There was only so much he could do sitting in the break room with nothing but a mug of cheap coffee for company. His mind drifted beyond the walls of the Crime Lab and found himself wondering what had happened to him. He had been perfectly happy with his life up until a few short months ago, and now he had been reduced to this pathetic shell of a man who couldn't tell up from down on a sunny day. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He didn't know what he needed. All he knew was that he was being driven slowly but surely over the edge by whatever it was he did want and need.

He sighed and downed the remains of his coffee, grimacing at the bitterness. There was nothing he could do about his problems now. Right now he had to focus on his case. There was a little girl dead, murdered in her own home, and he needed to find closure for whatever remained of her family, if there _was_ anyone left. More importantly, though, he wanted to find closure for Sara.

He found her in the layout room. Nick was about to go inside when he realized she was not alone. His stomach lurched when he recognized the figure standing beside her as Grissom. He could just barely make out what was being said over the everyday noises of the lab.

"I'm not letting this go, Grissom." she said angrily.

"Sara, your empathy is getting the better of you. I can't let you onto the field like this, you know that."

"What would you prefer then, Grissom?" She growled. "Apathy?"

"You know what I mean, Sara. Please don't make this difficult."

"I can't give this case up, Grissom." Her voice broke and Nick's heart leapt to his throat. "I won't." She turned and Nick could see the tears trailing down her cheeks. He could not tell whether they were tears of anger or sadness. "There was a little girl who was murdered. She was stabbed six times in her own bedroom, Grissom, and you expect me to just hand this case over without a word!"

"That's not what I said," he said sternly, but she cut him off before he could clarify.

"The bastard took her foot!"

"Sara, it's an awful case, I know, and that's why I'm taking you off it."

"No, Grissom!"

"Sara, you've just been through a trauma yourself, you can't be expected to deal with everyone else's pain, too."

"Why not?" she whispered. "It's what I'm good at." She closed her eyes, letting fresh tears escape her restraints. "It seems like my whole life has consisted of nothing but pain."

Nick could feel his heart tearing as she spoke. He wanted so bad to hold her, to comfort her, and apparently Grissom did, too, because he stepped forward and tried to place a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away from him, though, and glared angrily at him. "Don't touch me," she hissed.

Grissom withdrew his hand as though he had been burned by hot coals. He pivoted abruptly and walked briskly out of the room. His gaze met Nick's briefly on his way out and Nick couldn't help feeling slightly guilty for his eavesdropping. The guilt vanished as soon as his gaze returned to Sara, though. Her slender form was hunched over the layout table, shaking with the effort of her silent sobs.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Nick was beside her. "Sara?" he whispered cautiously. She quickly straightened and began shuffling the papers strewn across the table.

"None of the fibers found on either of the vics were foreign," she said quickly, trying her best to disguise the edge to her voice, but Nick wasn't fooled.

"Sara," he repeated, more sternly this time. She looked up, her great brown eyes glistening. Nick wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, lingering just a little too long. "Talk to me," he said softly. She shook her head and turned away, but he persisted, grabbing her arm before she could walk away. "Please, Sara, I just want to help. Tell me what's wrong."

She turned back to him, fresh tears replacing the ones he had wiped away. "I don't know, Nick." The tears trickled faster. "Everything?" Her voice quivered and then she was gasping for air as the sobs she had been working so hard to keep in finally broke free, shaking her body.

Nick could no longer resist the urge to hold her in his arms. He tugged on the arm he already held in his hand, pulling her closer to him, and she came without a word. His arms wrapped themselves around her and held her slender frame to his broad chest. His shirt grew wet as she continued to sob into his chest.

Her tears finally slowed and she pulled away. Nick reluctantly let her go. He could tell by the determined look he saw in her eyes that she would not be crying anymore and that he would not be able to pry anything else out of her. She had reconstructed the barrier she built between herself and the rest of the world, and there was no way he would be able to tear it down twice in one night.

He sighed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Their eyes locked briefly and something seemed to pass between them, but then Sara looked away and whatever had been there a moment ago vanished.

Nick nodded his head in defeat and moved slowly past her. When he got to the doorway, he stopped and turned back to face her. His voice was barely audible, but after some hesitation, he whispered, "It gets better, Sara, I promise." And then he left, willing himself not to look back because he knew that if he found her crying one more time he would lay down and die without another word.

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	5. Tete a Tete

**Chapter Five: Tête-à-Tête **

The phone was ringing.

Nick groaned and slung an arm across his eyes in a sad attempt to blot out the bright sunlight. The shrill ringing of the telephone could not be ignored, though. He grudgingly sat up on the sofa where he had fallen asleep mere hours ago watching some lame documentary on the Discovery Channel and lifted the phone from its cradle.

"Hello?" he grumbled.

He was not in the best of moods. He had finally managed to catch some shuteye and then this. All feelings of displeasure were erased from memory, though, as soon as he heard the voice on the other line.

"Nick?" It was Sara. "Did I wake you?"

"Don't worry about it." He was feeling considerably more awake now anyway.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Sara. I had to get up soon anyway," he lied.

"Oh, okay."

There was a long pause during which neither of them said anything.

"Sara," Nick finally said, scratching his head absentmindedly, "was there something you needed?"

"I…" She trailed of before Nick could catch the gist of what she was saying. He heard her take a deep breath before starting again. "I was just…wondering if we could…talk."

Nick's heart was beating at an unhealthily fast rate. "Yeah Sara, of course."

His mind was still cloudy from sleep but it was racing nonetheless. She wanted to talk. That was good. Talking was good.

"Can I come by your place?"

Breathing was good, too. Breathing was important.

Breathe, Nick. _Breathe_.

"No problem, Sara."

"Great, I'll be over soon."

The line went dead and Nick was left feeling unnaturally hollow and empty. But then reality hit him and it seemed that he couldn't move fast enough.

He ran around his living room picking up abandoned beer bottles and putting away old sneakers. When the room was in decent shape, he ran to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. He bathed in record time, shutting of the water just as the doorbell rang. Nick clambered out of the tub. He pulled on a faded pair of jeans and a red t-shirt and ran to answer the door, his hair still wet.

Sara stood on his doorstep. She looked beautiful as always, though he didn't tell her this because he knew that if he did she would up and leave right then and there. He wouldn't get to admire her beauty from afar and she certainly wouldn't be asking to talk to him anymore.

"I brought pizza," she said hopefully, and he noticed for the first time the large square box she carried with her.

"Great," he said as enthusiastically as he could possibly get, considering, "I'm starving."

He beckoned Sara through to the living room where she sat on the sofa that had not too long ago served as Nick's bed, placing the pizza box on the coffee table. Nick disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a couple of bottles of water and sat down beside her.

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking a water from him.

They ate in silence, staring at the TV, which was still playing that documentary on bird migration that had put Nick to sleep, without really watching it. When Sara had eaten two slices, though, and Nick was finishing his third, there was no more beating around the bush.

"What did you want to talk about?" he finally asked.

"I just," she began slowly, calculating the exact words she wanted to use, "wanted to apologize, I guess. And thank you."

Nick furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Sara, you have nothing to be sorry for and you don't have anything to thank me for either."

"Yes I do, Nick."

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"I was acting like a selfish child. You were only trying to help me and I had to keep playing the victim. I wouldn't talk to you because I knew you wouldn't understand. Only you would have understood because you've been through the same thing. And I would have realized that, too, if I hadn't been so absorbed in my own problems." She paused and took a breath, opening her eyes to size up his reaction. He just stared at her, so she continued, "And I wanted to thank you because you tried to help me anyway and you didn't hold my stupidity against me."

When he was fairly certain she had finished and had had sufficient time to process her spiel, Nick began. "Sara, you're allowed to get absorbed in your problems. It's the only way you can deal with this." She closed her eyes again. "I just…I want you to know that you can talk to me. You can say anything you want. Scream. Yell. Cry. I won't hold it against you. You need a friend right now, I understand that. Probably better than anyone else."

Sara opened her eyes and Nick could see that she was fighting back tears again. "Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled and squeezed her hand. Her skin was smooth and cool against his and sent shivers up his spine.

"Grissom's only trying to help you, too," he told her quietly.

After everything that had happened, after all the feelings he was harboring, Nick could not believe that he was actually defending the man he loathed above all others. But he knew that the way to Sara's heart was not by bashing her boyfriend.

"He wants to take me off the case," she said.

"I know."

She looked up. "How much of our conversation did you hear earlier?"

"Enough."

"I said some really awful things."

"You were only doing what you thought was best."

She sighed. "Would you still want to help me if I had said something like that to you?"

"I don't know, Sara," Nick said. "You've never said anything like that to me before."

"No, I haven't," she echoed.

She sighed and sank further into the sofa, closing her eyes once again, only this time a solitary tear escaped and trailed slowly down her cheek.


	6. Deja Vu

**Chapter Six: Déjà Vu **

Nick sat in the locker room fingering the envelope he held in his hand. It contained the letter of resignation he had written three days ago as soon as he had gotten home after talking with Catherine. Everything had seemed so much clearer then. He had to leave; it was the only way for him to put Sara out of his mind and move on.

But he couldn't leave. Not when she needed him. She had reached out to him. _Him _above all other people, above Grissom even. She had reached out for help, and he couldn't abandon her now.

He had fully intended on giving his letter to Grissom today. He was going to drop it on his desk and never be heard from again. He had already lined up a job back at the Dallas Crime Lab where he had worked before moving to Vegas. He would stay with his brother until he got back on his feet and then he would move on with his life, never to think about Sara again.

But then she had chosen his shoulder to cry on and screwed it all up. He knew he couldn't leave her like this. No matter how much it hurt for him to watch her with Grissom every day, he wouldn't be able to leave her when he knew she needed him. He wouldn't be able to refuse her. He was weak when it came to Sara. So he would stay for as long as her need for him lasted. And then, when he wasn't needed anymore, when he had fixed Sara, then he would resign. Then he would resign and disappear back to Dallas.

He sighed and shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket just as Warrick walked into the locker room.

"Nick, what're you doing here? I thought you had the night off."

"Yeah, I do." Nick said. He ran a large hand through his cropped hair. "I just had to get something out of my locker."

"Anything important?"

"Nah, just forgot my wallet."

Warrick chuckled. "Yeah, man, that's not important at all."

Nick punched his friend in the arm playfully as he pulled on a boot. "What've you got today?"

"419 in Henderson."

"Good luck." Nick smiled weakly standing up. "I'll see you around."

Warrick nodded.

Nick left the locker room and maneuvered his way out of the bustling crime lab. He drove home in silence, not in the mood for the radio. He pulled into his driveway fifteen minutes later, but as soon as he had taken the key out of the ignition, his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Nick," Warrick sounded strained. "I need you to get down here now."

"Where are you, Rick?"

Warrick read him the address and told him to hurry. Nick sighed and put the truck in reverse, driving towards Henderson.

Nick arrived shortly after Sara. He jumped out of his truck and followed her over to where Warrick was standing behind the yellow crime scene tape.

"Warrick," she asked skeptically, "why are we here?"

"I think my 419 might be related to the double homicide you're working."

Sara looked taken aback. Nick put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"What do you mean, Rick?"

"Victim's name is Cathy Davis. She's missing her right hand."

"Damn it." Sara kicked the curb angrily. "Damn him!"

"Sara, calm down," Nick said quietly. "For all we know this is a separate case altogether."

But it wasn't.

Cathy Davis was laying face down on her kitchen floor. She had been stabbed multiple times and her head seemed to have been bashed in, too. Blood was spattered everywhere, across the floor, across the white tile on the counter, on the ceiling. And just like in the Perry case, her hand could not be found anywhere.

Nick, Warrick, and Sara processed in unison. All the while, Nick kept stealing glances at Sara. She seemed to be holding up fairly well, considering…but then again, Sara had been known to hide her emotions.

There were the little things that gave her away though.

She worked apart from the other two, photographing in silence. She was biting her bottom lip so hard that it was a wonder the skin hadn't torn yet, and her knuckles were white from the death grip she had on her camera.

Other than that, though, all was good.

Nick sighed and continued to process in silence. He didn't know of anything he could do to make things easier for her right now. If he suggested she sit this one out, she would bite his head off. She would see it as a betrayal and then he would be back to square one with her.

The three continued to work without speaking for close to forty-five minutes before Warrick decided to head outside.

Sara didn't even look up as he walked past her to the front door. She was staring at something, Nick realized. He set down the fingerprint powder he was currently sprinkling over the bloody kitchen knife on the counter and walked slowly over to her.

"What's up, Sara?" he asked her, squatting down beside her.

"Nick, that's semen."

He followed her gaze to the floor beside the refrigerator. There was a little puddle of cloudy white liquid on the tile.

"The guy's getting off on dismembering people."

"Yeah, but why didn't he ejaculate at the other scene? Why just this one?"

"Maybe he did ejaculate, just not at the scene."

Sara looked at him in disgust. "What, so he just couldn't wait 'til he got home this time?" 

"It's possible." Nick sighed and grabbed a swab from his kit. "We can only hope this is enough to catch the bastard."

After they had finished processing the rest of the kitchen, Nick and Sara went back outside to find Warrick. He was talking to Brass. Nick and Sara approached them, carrying the bagged evidence along with them.

"You find anything, Rick?" Nick asked when he was close enough to be heard.

"No," Warrick said. "This guys good. No shoeprints, no tire tracks, no witnesses. Nothing."

"He's not that good," Sara said, holding up one of the evidence bags. "We found semen."

"So the guy kills a woman, cuts of her hand, and then masturbates?"

Nick nodded.

"That's sick."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, "but it's good for us. At least he left us evidence this time."

They packed the evidence into the back of Sara's car. Warrick decided to stay behind and give the scene a final walk through and talk to the neighbors. Nick and Sara separated into their respective vehicles and drove back to the lab to process the new evidence.


	7. Humanoid

**Chapter Seven: Humanoid**

Nick pulled into the parking lot shortly after Sara. He parked beside her and climbed out of his truck.

It was cool in the lab, but Nick was still hot as he walked to DNA. He could see Sara's figure talking to Wendy from where he stood. They seemed to be arguing.

"I can't just push everyone else aside, Sara. I'm swamped tonight." Wendy was telling her.

"I don't care," Sara said angrily. "I need these results now."

"No, Sara, I'm sorry."

"Wendy, look," Nick was in the doorway by now, watching the exchange between women. "This bastard killed a seven year-old girl…"

Nothing else needed to be said. Wendy took the samples Sara handed her without another word.

Nick walked up beside Sara.

"Everything settled, ladies?"

"Everything's fine, Nick," Wendy grumbled.

"Great," he said more cheerily than he felt. "I'll leave you two here and I'll go take these prints to Mandy."

He left Sara in DNA to take the prints he had collected from the kitchen knife to the fingerprint lab. Mandy, unlike Wendy, seemed grateful for the diversion. She chatted incessantly at Nick as he waited for his results. Her words flew right over his head as he stared blankly at her.

His mind wandered as he waited. He felt slightly guilty standing there as if nothing was happening out of the ordinary when he knew full well that he would be gone already if it wasn't for Sara.

It was ironic, really. She was the reason he had to leave, and yet she was the reason he had to stay as well. It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

Mandy smacked him on the arm in irritation, drawing him back to reality.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked in annoyance.

Nick stared at her blankly.

"Whatever," she sighed. "I've got your results anyway."

"That was fast." Nick said in surprise.

"Yeah, well it's been a slow day."

"Hey, hey," Nick said raising his hands in defense, "I'm not complaining."

"Good," she grumbled and turned the computer screen to face him.

He scanned the results eagerly. "Perfect match to David Greenwell." His gaze drifted up to meet the fingerprint tech's. "Who the hell is he?"

She groaned in exasperation. "That's for you to find out, Nick, not me."

He smiled at her gratefully. The results had put him in a considerably better mood. "Thank you, Mandy," he said, and left the fingerprint lab in search of Sara.

He ran into her in the hall outside DNA. It seemed she had been looking for him too.

"We found a match to the semen found at the scene. Man named David Greenwell."

Nick grinned broadly. It felt weird to be smiling after everything that had happened. "Fingerprints came back to Mr. Greenwell, too."

"He lives just outside Henderson."

Nick's eyes found Sara's.

"Brass is on his way there now. I told him we'd meet him."

Without another word the two walked back out to the parking lot and climbed into the Tahoe.

David Greenwell lived just fifteen minutes away from Cathy Davis. His house was the epitome of suburbia and for a moment Nick couldn't help wondering whether they had gotten the right man after all. But they had to have. The man's semen was found at the scene; it doesn't get much more incriminating than that.

Nick followed Sara out of the Tahoe and up the front walk where they met Brass. The three stood outside the front door accompanied by two officers before ringing the doorbell.

Nothing happened.

Brass rang the bell again, and still there was nothing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw movement. He turned and saw a man darting from the backyard toward the street. He took off after him without thinking twice, Brass not far behind. They overtook him quickly. Nick lunged, taking him down on the grass. The man fought to get back up but was too weak beneath Nick's weight.

"Let me guess," Brass said, coming up behind them, "David Greenwell."

- -

Nick stood with Sara outside the interrogation room. They watched as Brass presented their suspect with the evidence they had against him. They had found all three missing body parts in his freezer. That, along with the semen and fingerprints, and there was no room left for doubt. They had the right guy.

It only made it that much easier that he confessed, though.

"Yeah, I killed them," he said casually. "Killed the dad first, cut off his ear, then went to find the girl. Took her foot." He smiled at the thought. Nick felt Sara tense beside him. "Killed Cathy, too. She was cooking dinner. I killed her and then cut off her hand."

Brass stared at him in disgust. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you take the body parts?"

He shrugged. "I felt like it."

Sara ground her teeth in anger. "I can't believe it," she said quietly. "It's like it doesn't even faze him, like he's not even human."

"Some people are just like that, Sara," Nick said.

"Yeah, I guess."

They watched as Brass read Greenwell his rights and handcuffed him. The door to the interrogation room opened beside him and an officer led him out. Brass followed, stopping to address the CSIs. "We've got more than enough for the death sentence," he told them dejectedly. "He's not killing anyone else."

"Yeah," Sara whispered, "but he already killed three people. We can't do anything about that."

"No, you can't, but you did stop him from doing the same thing to anyone else."

Sara nodded dejectedly and turned to leave. Nick jogged after her, slowing when he was beside her. "Hey," he said quietly, "you wanna grab a beer?"

Sara looked up at him, her eyes cloudy, and nodded slowly.

She followed him out of the lab and to his truck. He sighed as he put the vehicle in drive. Nothing was happening the way it should anymore. They should be celebrating a victory right now, not mourning a loss. He glanced over at Sara on the seat beside him. She looked so helpless.

She needed him, almost as much as he needed her, if not in the same way.

* * *

Reviews rock my world :) 


	8. Warm Beer And The Wrong Words

**Chapter Eight: Warm Beer and the Wrong Words**

Three weeks had passed since the arrest of David Greenwell, and with the help of Nick, Sara seemed to be coping fairly well.

There had been a major change in her since the night Nick took her for a beer. There seemed to be a weight lifted off her shoulders. She smiled more and even laughed occasionally. And everything with Grissom seemed pretty much back to normal.

The latter was something Nick knew he couldn't avoid, yet he still couldn't help feeling disappointed. They had been spending so much time together, watching movies, playing stupid board games that never failed to make them laugh, or just talking. Things had definitely changed between them, but they hadn't changed that much; Sara was still with Grissom, and Nick was still left pining for Sara.

It took every ounce of self-restraint Nick had to keep from pinning her down and ravishing her right there on his living room floor. She was just so goddamn beautiful, and she would do things without realizing it that would send the blood coursing through Nick's veins.

The way her hair fell in her face while she ate.

The way she would cover her eyes with Nick's arm whenever a movie got a little too intense for her.

The way her breasts had rubbed against his back that time he had goaded her into a game of twister.

It was driving him insane.

He was starting to think that being with Sara as friends was worse than not being with Sara at all. It was a constant reminder of everything he couldn't have. Hearing her, seeing her, smelling her and not being able to hold her, to have her. It was getting harder and harder everyday. But Sara was getting better and better everyday, and that meant that her need for him was growing less and less. Soon she would be back to normal, she would be fixed, and she would no longer need Nick.

Then he would disappear from her life and start the process of forgetting.

But with every smile, every laugh, every unconscious touch, that process grew more and more difficult.

He almost wished he hadn't chosen to stay longer. But then he thought about the broken look in Sara's eyes and all those feelings vanished.

He was doing the best thing for Sara and that was all that mattered. That's what got him through each night. Sara was all that mattered right now.

Three weeks had passed since Nick and Sara had shared their first beer, and since then it had become some sort of unorthodox tradition. Each night after shift had ended, Sara would follow Nick back to his house where they would share a beer, maybe two depending on how tough the shift was.

That's where they sat now, sipping their beers in comfortable silence on Nick's sofa. Well, he had thought the silence was comfortable until Sara had cleared her throat and turned to him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Is something wrong, Sara?"

"I think so," she said quietly.

He put his beer down on the coffee table and turned to her. She still clutched hers as she spoke.

"Nick, how do you sleep at night?"

"Ummm," Nick said, scratching his head. He wasn't sure whether or not he understood where she was going with this. "I'm not sure I get what you're saying."

"How do you sleep at night knowing you should be dead," she stared at the bottle in her hands as she spoke, "that you escaped death by sheer luck?" She looked back up at Nick, her eyes searching his.

"I don't," he answered after some consideration. Sara looked away and he took her hand. "Sara, you have to try to forget about everything that happened. Sleeping becomes difficult if you just keep replaying all the shit you've had to go through. You need to find something to distract you. Watch a movie, read a book. Hell, have Grissom sing to you." He smiled thinly at her and she closed her eyes.

"He doesn't understand why I'm not over this yet," she whispered.

"Of course he can't. He's Grissom," Nick said lightly. "I don't think he's ever shown empathy to someone who didn't happen to be one of his cockroaches." He squeezed her hand and she smiled thinly at him.

"I know," she whispered. "It just makes it hard when everyone's expecting me to get better by a deadline."

"Hey," Nick said, "I don't expect you to get better any time soon. You could stay fucked up for the rest of your life if you wanted and I'd still love you."

His words had the opposite effect than he'd intended. Sara buried her face in his neck and began crying uncontrollably. He rubbed her back and whispered soothingly into her ear, though he doubted she could hear him over the volume of her sobs.

"Shhhh, Sara, honey, it's alright." His neck was wet from her tears. "Please, Sara, calm down. It's going to be alright, I promise," he whispered. And then, "I love you, Sara. I love you so much. Please stop crying. I can't stand it when you cry."

Sara froze in his arms. Apparently, he had been wrong about the whole not being heard part. She sat up slowly, her tear-streaked cheeks glistening in the lamplight, and stared at him, mouth agape.

He suddenly wished she was still crying into his neck. He wished he had never asked her over for a beer. He wished he had never tried to comfort her.

He wished he hadn't been so _stupid._

"What did you say?" she asked, still sniffling back tears.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"You said you love me," she whispered.

He didn't say anything. There was no use denying it, but he wouldn't own up to it either. That would cause them both nothing but pain.

"You said you love me," she repeated.

It was obvious that she was expecting an answer, but his throat was too dry to say anything, so he just nodded.

She stood up, obviously confused and walked to the door.

"I have to go," she muttered, and she was gone.


	9. Last Goodbye

**Chapter Nine: Last Goodbye**

Nick was left alone in his front room, staring at the carpet. He could not believe what had just happened. How could he have been so stupid? In a matter of minutes things between him and Sara had gone from kind of okay to disastrous, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Why had he even said anything in the first place? He should have known it would lead to nothing but trouble. But of course he was being Nick, thinking with his heart instead of his head. He should have learned by now that the best way to preserve your heart is to ignore it completely, pretend it's not even there. That way you can't end up breaking it.

But stupid, stupid Nick never learns from his mistakes.

Instead he keeps fucking up over and over again, tearing his heart into even smaller pieces than he started out with.

He sighed and stood up, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the coffee table and walking them to the kitchen. He made a pit-stop at the fridge to grab a fresh bottle and then returned to the sofa where he sat staring at the wall.

He didn't even bother opening the bottle in his hand. He just held it until it grew warm.

The only thing that had kept him going these past few months was the thought that maybe, somehow there was a chance for him to fix things, to make things better for himself. And then he had gone and screwed everything up for himself.

There was no fixing things now.

He had told her he loved her.

He had scared her away.

But still he didn't really regret what had happened. He was in love with her and she deserved to know. He would want to know if someone was in love with him. He only wished things had played out differently. Why couldn't he have written her a letter? That would have been easier. He could have dropped it off along with his letter of resignation, and then he wouldn't have to see the look in her eyes when she read it. He wouldn't have to watch her walking away like he was right now, over and over again in his head.

All he could see was her pulling away from him, her hand on the doorknob.

All she wanted was a shoulder to cry on, but Nick couldn't even give her that. He had to drive her away.

It left him feeling strangely numb inside. He wasn't sad or angry or resentful. He was just numb. All other emotion would have to wait until his insides had thawed out.

Until then he was nothing but numb.

He sighed and stood up, walking the unopened bottle to the kitchen and placing it on the counter along with the others. He stared for a moment at Sara's bottle. It was still half full. She had abandoned it on the coffee table before she left and now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, surrounded by a bunch of empty bottles. And one unopened one. It looked out of place. Nick couldn't bare the thought of it being so omitted so he poured it down the drain.

He left the unopened bottle alone, though.

His keys were in his jacket pocket. He grabbed the whole coat and left, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

The time had come to say goodbye.

The drive to the crime lab was a slow one. His heart seemed to be stuck in his throat the whole way and his stomach seemed to have become a bottomless pit. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, the dull _thump, thump, thumping_ not doing much to fill the hollow silence.

He parked his truck at the back of the parking lot, walking as slow as possible towards the lab doors. He looked around as he walked, taking in the familiar sights and sounds for the last time. The thought made everything seem so much more significant.

The crunch of the gravel beneath his boots.

The smell of the asphalt.

The sounds of laughter drifting toward him through an open car door.

It all seemed so…ominous, as though he would never see daylight again, as though he was being exiled to a life in purgatory. And in a way, he was.

A cool gust of air greeted him as he passed through the doors to the air conditioned lab. He walked determinedly through the hallways, glad for once to be here off-hours. The chances of running into anyone important were slimmer this way. He could only hope that Grissom had not decided to pull a triple again.

But he hadn't.

His supervisor's office was dark as he approached, the lights turned out, the door securely closed. Nick placed a hand on the doorknob and turned. It opened easily. The light from the hallway poured inside, illuminating the path to the paper-strewn desk in the corner. He took a deep breath and then entered.

The shelves and shelves that lined the walls seemed so foreboding in the darkness. He could see the jars of preserved insects and other unmentionables peering at him through the glass. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He quickened his pace to the desk, eager to be rid of the eerie sensation.

When he did finally reach it, though, he froze.

What was he doing? This wasn't something he could change his mind about later. This was a lifelong decision, and if it was the wrong one, there was no going back. That being said, he was not so sure his decision had been the right one.

But he knew deep down that it was the right decision. His life in Vegas had come to a stalemate and the only way to progress was to leave Vegas for good. He was fairly certain that the heartache pertaining to Sara would follow him no matter where he went, but he was also convinced that if he started over he would have a chance of dealing with the pain. If he stayed it would eat him alive.

Leaving was his only option.

Not to mention the fact that he would be lucky if Sara even looked at him again after what had happened. And if she told Grissom…Well, that wouldn't make for a very comfortable work environment for anyone.

No. Leaving was his only option.

He sighed and fished in the pocket of his jacket, his fingers closing around a thin piece of paper. He withdrew the now-wrinkled envelope containing his letter of resignation. He took a pen off of a stack of paperwork and scrawled his supervisor's name across the surface, and then he placed the letter in the center of the desk and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

He wandered the crime lab before he left, memorizing the hallways and labs, stopping in the break room for one last cup of sordid coffee, and then walked back to his truck and drove home.


	10. Eclipse

**A/N: **Okay, so I decided to do a chapter from Sara's perspective. I thought it would help to clear some things up. 

Oh, and I had to type this entire chapter one-handed due to a very painful injury of my left hand, so please excuse any stupid spelling errors.

Thanks a bunch. Enjoy and please review.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Eclipse**

No one knew where Nick was. He had not shown up for work. He was not answering his cell. Grissom had sent Warrick by his house. His truck had been parked in the driveway but he had not been there. The team had had been driven into a panic. Especially Sara.

She had been sitting in the break room since the beginning of shift. Her coffee was quickly growing cold but she didn't care. She didn't know why she had even bothered pouring it anyway. She couldn't shake the feeling that Nick's unorthodox disappearance was somehow her fault. After all, she had left him under some pretty uncertain circumstances.

He had told her he loved her.

Nick Stokes was in love with her, Sara Sidle.

The thought made her head spin, her stomach ache. It was all too much to bear. She didn't know what to think anymore.

She was losing grip, losing control of her entire being.

She did it silently though, sitting alone in the break room, brooding over the preceding day's events.

And then they had found Nick's letter and what was left of her world shattered.

Nick loved her.

He loved her.

And he was resigning, moving back to Dallas.

She felt her heart pounding in her chest. It was so damn _loud. _How was it that she was the only one able to hear it? It beat faster and faster, hammering against her chest as Grissom broke the news to her, echoing through her mind. Grissom reached for her hand but she pulled away.

She felt nauseous.

She felt hollow.

Nick was leaving. Her Nicky. The one person who had understood what she was going through. The person who had listened to her. The person who had held her in his arms as she cried out all the pain and fear she had been harboring for almost three months. The person who had fixed her.

He had fixed her, and yet he had left her feeling so broken inside.

She looked back up to meet Grissom's eyes, those wounded eyes. Could they really be more wounded than her own, though? Unlikely.

He withdrew his hand and left her sitting alone at the break room table.

She didn't eat that night. She just pushed the food around on the plate with her fork as Grissom sat watching her. He finally stood up and took their untouched meals to the garbage can, where he dumped them, and Sara went to take a shower. It was a cold shower. It made the skin on her legs spring up into gooseflesh, but she didn't care; she was not in the mood for a warm shower.

By the time Sara had dried off and slipped into her pajamas, Grissom was already in bed. She tiptoed across the cold tile of the bathroom and into the hallway, walking past the open bedroom door to the living room. She climbed onto the sofa and curled up into a ball.

A solitary tear escaped the barriers she had been working to sustain all night long. It was closely followed by another. And then another. She didn't know what exactly she was crying for. Perhaps it was the overall anxiety of a stressful day. Perhaps it was the intense sensation of loss that had overwhelmed her. She didn't really know. All she did know was that the tears began flowing with such vigor that her whole body started trembling.

Sara clutched her legs tighter to her chest and buried her head in her knees. She remained sobbing in a fetal position for close to three hours before the tears finally subsided and she was left with nothing but tear-streaked cheeks and a faint hiccupping sensation. Her eyes stung and her eyelids were strangely stiff, so she stared at the wall through the darkness until she fell asleep, almost too scared to even close her eyes.

When Sara woke, the first thing she noticed was that the brightness of the sunlight pouring in through the open window stung her eyes. The second was that it was warm, warmer than it had been when she had fallen asleep. She sat up on the couch groggily, the fleece blanket that had miraculously appeared on top of her sometime during the night falling to her waist.

The third thought that struck her was that Nick was gone, or soon to be gone, and she felt fresh tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

She quickly dabbed the moisture from her eyes and stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor beside her. The house was unnaturally quiet. She wandered from room to room in search of Grissom but could not find him anywhere. She did not know where he could possibly be. It was his day off, so he wouldn't be at the lab and he wasn't too keen on the social scene.

She trudged into the kitchen and found a note written for her on the table.

_Sara,_ it read. _Don't bother coming in today. I'm taking your shift. Get some rest. Grissom._

Apparently he _was_ at the lab.

She sighed and wandered back into the living room, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. _Get some rest._ Yeah, right. Like that was feasible. Her mind was racing. Her heart was pounding. Her legs felt numb.

There was no way in hell she would be getting any rest.

How could she when her world had been turned upside down so abruptly? She had had no warning whatsoever. She just showed up at work one day to find that her best friend – the man who had helped her through all the crap her life seemed to consist of lately, the man she had been falling deeper and deeper in love with for the better part of the past month, the man who had confessed his love for her only the night before – was leaving. For good.

The sun might as well have been blotted out of the sky.

Losing Nick was like having to deal with her own personal eclipse.

You never know what you've got until it's gone. How many times had she heard that platitude? And yet it had taken until now for the depth of its meaning to sink in.

Sara needed Nick. She loved him. And if she had only realized that sooner, she might have been able to fix things.

She could be lying in his arms right now.

Sara's eyes fluttered closed at the memory of his arms wrapped around her waist as she sobbed into his neck, the way his heady scent had overwhelmed her.

She stood up and grabbed her coat from where it lay on the edge of the couch. She shrugged into it and stuffed her keys into her pocket, locking the door to the townhouse behind her.

She drove without knowing where she was going. She drove to forget but only ended up remembering when she found herself outside of Nick's house. His truck was still parked in the driveway but there were no lights on and there was an altogether empty feeling about the place. Then again, Sara couldn't be altogether sure if the feeling was coming more from the house or herself.

Sara put the car in park and unbuckled. She exited the vehicle as if in a daze. She wasn't sure of what she was doing, but she locked the car door and began walking slowly up the front walk to the door. It was locked, of course, but she rattled the doorknob nonetheless. It still didn't give way and she began pounding ruthlessly on the wooden surface until it swung open to reveal a very pissed off looking Nick.


	11. Moving On

**Chapter Eleven: Moving On**

Nick was rudely awakened by a pounding on his front door. He climbed grudgingly off the couch where he had fallen asleep mere hours before, wondering who in the hell would be making such a racket. If it was Warrick again he didn't know if he would be able to contain himself. Things would get ugly. He was _not_ in the mood to be explaining his every move, no matter who it was asking him.

He trudged across his front room, weaving his way through the maze of boxes that had managed to appear sometime within the past three days, and pulled the door open. The anger and annoyance that he could only imagine were spread across his face quickly dissolved into shock as he took in the figure standing before him.

It was Sara.

Her eyes were bulgy and red, her cheeks were tear-streaked, and from the looks of it, she was still wearing her pajamas. She smiled thinly at him and Nick could see that she scared out of her mind at what she was doing. It was probably the wild look he had had in his eyes for the past forty-eight hours. He had been frightened too when he first looked in the mirror. He looked more like a homicidal maniac than someone who makes a living catching them.

Sara stood timidly on his doorstep, not saying anything, just staring at him, until he finally cleared his throat and croaked, "Sara." She didn't say anything. From the looks of it she was too afraid to even open her mouth. Nick opened the door further and beckoned for her to enter. "Would you like to come in?"

She nodded silently and stepped across the threshold.

"You want anything to drink?" he managed.

Sara shook her head. "No," she whispered. Her eyes traveled the length of his body and Nick remembered for the first time that he was clad in nothing but an old pair of Levi's. He was beyond embarrassment, though, so he just shrugged and wandered back over to the sofa. He sat down and stared at Sara from across the room.

"Did you need something?" he asked a little more bluntly than he had meant to.

"I want to know why you're leaving," she demanded. Her voice sounded a lot more confident than she looked. He didn't answer her, though, and he could sense her getting more and more pissed off with every passing second.

Nick sighed. "Because I have to," he finally said.

"What the fuck do you mean 'I have to'?" she growled. Her eyes blazed viciously at him, and for a moment it was almost like having his old Sara back. But then Nick remembered that she had always just been Sara, not _his _Sara, and the little joy that thought had brought him disappeared immediately.

"I mean that I have to, Sara." He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. "I can't stay in Vegas anymore."

"So you're just going to drop everything and leave?" She was trying so hard not to cry. "You're just going to abandoned everything you have here?"

"I don't have anything here to abandon, Sara," he said.

"You have a career. You have friends. You have me." Her voice broke and she began to cry. "We need you here, Nick. I need you."

Nick couldn't bear to meet her eyes, to be reminded of what he was doing to her. "You'll be fine without me," he muttered.

"I don't think I will."

"Sara, what do you expect me to do? I can't stay. There's nothing left for me here."

"Yes there is," she whispered.

Nick stood up and crossed the room. "What's that?"

Her cheeks were wet once more with tears. She took a step towards him, closing the distance between their bodies considerably. "Me," she breathed.

Nick was close enough to reach out and touch her. He caressed her cheek softly, tracing the trail of her tears with his thumb. "I love you," he whispered.

Sara sniffled dejectedly. "Don't leave," she pleaded softly.

"I have to, Sara."

Sara shook her head and took another step forward, placing her hands on the bare skin of Nick's exposed chest. Nick shuddered involuntarily beneath her touch. She stepped closer until there was no space left between them. Her head fell forward, coming to rest on his neck.

He pulled away and found her eyes, searching there for something of consequence. What he found made his heart pound in his chest. "Sara," he mumbled throatily before pressing his lips softly to hers. They felt so good against his, so soft, like velvet.

He had expected her to pull away, to scream, to slap him, but she didn't. Instead, her arms wound themselves around his neck, pulling him flush with her, deepening the kiss. He groaned at the sensation of her body against his and tightened his hold on her waist.

"I love you," he mumbled against the softness of her lips.

She pulled away from their embrace and Nick was filled once more with the feeling of emptiness that haunted him. But Sara didn't retreat any further. Her cloudy brown eyes found Nick's and a lone tear trailed down her cheek.

"I love you, too, Nicky," she whispered, her warm breath tickling his lips.

Nick's stomach did somersaults. In fact, he felt like doing somersaults along with it. The emptiness was gone, replaced by a warmth he never thought he would get to experience.

Sara loved him. His Sara loved him. _His_ Sara.

Nick could no longer contain himself. He stepped forward, capturing Sara's mouth again. His hands slid along her back, massaging small circles into the tender flesh beneath the cotton of her shirt. She moaned appreciatively into his mouth, her hands entwining themselves in his hair as Nick forced her slowly backwards until he had her pinned firmly against the wall.

Sara's hands began roaming the wide expanse of his chest, memorizing the vastness of his musculature. Nick's heart picked up speed as he felt her fingers trailing down his abdomen, coming to a halt at his waistband. Sara deftly popped the button open and slid the zipper down. Before she could slip her hand inside, Nick caught hold of her wrists, shackling them together in his warm palm. Sara looked up in confusion. She tried to shake her hands free of his grip, but he held fast.

"Sara," he breathed, slowly, trying his best to maintain composure with her clever fingers just inches from his throbbing member. "Is this what you want?"

"I want you, Nicky," she breathed.

Nick released her wrists, scooping her off her feet. He carried her slowly down the hallway, all the while pressing open-mouthed kisses along her beautiful neck. He kicked the door to his bedroom open and placed her gently on the bed.

"I love you, Sara," he whispered, crawling onto the bed beside her.

She smiled her beautiful gap-toothed smile and climbed on top of him, pressing her velvet lips to his chest.

- -

Nick lay awake in bed, staring at Sara as she slept. Her chest rose and fell softly as she dreamt. He wished he knew what it was she was seeing behind those beautiful eyelids, whether he was there with her, wherever she was.

He smiled as he absorbed the scene before him, committing every detail to memory. The way her hair fanned out beneath her. The hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. The way she rolled over, searching for him in her sleep. The way she looked so peaceful. The slight flush to her cheeks. He didn't want to forget any of it.

Sara whimpered softly in her sleep, and Nick wrapped his arms around her, hugging her body to the warmth of his chest. He placed his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly. Her eyes fluttered open at the touch and her face lit up.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Nick whispered in her ear.

"Morning," she mumbled sleepily.

Sara rolled over so that she was lying almost directly on top of him. Her cheek was pressed against his chest. "Mmmmmm," she moaned as Nick began rubbing his warm palms along the bare skin of her back.

"You're so beautiful in the morning," he muttered.

Sara lifted her head from his chest and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. Nick groaned as she pulled away. He caressed her cheeks softly and pulled her back for more.

"Sara," he mumbled against her lips. "Come with me."

Sara sat up. "What?" she asked him quietly.

"Come with me," he repeated. "To Dallas."

Sara stared at him, awestruck. "Nick, I don't really know what to say."

"Say yes."

She sighed and lay down next to him on her back. "I can't just drop everything and leave," she told him quietly, staring at the ceiling.

Nick's heart felt as though it was being crushed. "Why not, Sara?" He sat up. "You can't seriously be thinking about going back to Grissom." He couldn't quite conceal the hurt in his voice.

Sara sighed and sat up. "That's not what I meant, Nick," she said quietly. "I told you I love you and I meant it. It's just…"

She closed her eyes and sighed. Her hands toyed with the sheet spread across her lap, causing a soft rustling to break the heavy silence.

"It's just what, Sara?" Nick pressured.

Sara's eyes fluttered open. "Never mind," she whispered and kissed him softly. "I'm coming with you," she muttered into his mouth.

Nick pulled away. "Sara," he said slowly, "I don't want you to come with me if it's not what you want, too."

She smiled sweetly and pressed her lips to his once more. "I've made up my mind, Nicky," she said sternly. "I'm coming with you."

Nick couldn't help but smile at her as she settled down once more on his chest, letting her fingers trace patterns across his taut flesh. "Good," he whispered, pressing his lips softly to her chocolate mane.

Time seemed to stop as they lay there, content within the warmth of each other's embrace. She had said yes. She would go with him to Dallas and together they would forget the pain they had gone through to make it as far as they had. They would forget life in Vegas altogether, erasing the memories of that chapter of their lives, leaving only the parts where they were together because those were the only parts that mattered now anyway.

**The End**

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**A/N: **There it is. I hope you've enjoyed it. And please, please, PLEASE, if you've taken the time to read this far, tell me what you thought. Thanks a bunch.


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